Treasured Possessions, Stolen and Found
by savannahhershey
Summary: This is a canon one shot looking at how both Sybil and Tom each came into possession of a treasured photograph.


AN: I_'m convinced that the photo on Sybil's dressing table in S2 E8 (UK Version) is Tom; and I believe that Isobel was more aware than anyone else of the relationship between the two._

Disclaimer: Downton Abbey belongs to Julian Fellowes and ITV. This means I own nothing; except the few characters I've created for my own use.

Summary: This is a canon one shot looking at how both Sybil and Tom each came into possession of a treasured photograph.

**Treasured Possessions, Stolen and Found (S/T, K)**

Having finally made the announcement to her family that she intended to marry Tom, Sybil said goodnight to her betrothed before heading to the refuge of her bedroom. Once the door was securely shut and locked, she climbed up onto a chair and took down one of her suitcases. Unbeknownst to anyone this was habit she had developed several years ago. Setting it down on the bed, she opened and reach into it, retrieving what she had hidden there.

Taking out a somewhat battered photograph, she held it reverently in her hand. His face looking up at her, giving her the comfort his presence always seemed to have. After sitting there for several moments she would normally tuck it back safely into its hiding place.

This time however she stands up and walks over to her dressing table. There she removes the photo of her parents from its frame and replaces it with her most treasured possession. Setting it back down, she smiles thrilled that she no longer had to hide her feelings (even from herself).

Continuing to stare at the photo, she thinks back to how she came into possession of it several years earlier. The library had been quiet and peaceful as Sybil searched for the book he had suggested earlier that day. They had spoken among many things about her possibly working as a nurse, something he was very supportive of.

The thought of leaving home for two months however scared her more than she was willing to admit. Not having her best friend living several yards away, always willing to listen to her, was something she didn't dare think about. Because that's all they were, was friends, right? It's all she'd ever admit to herself, that was for sure, because anything else was just too dangerous.

She passed her father's desk on her way out of the library, book firmly clutched in her hand, ready to sneak outside and find a quiet spot to read. Suddenly a certain chauffeurs eyes stared up at her, stopping Sybil in her tracks. Shel reached out and traced the lines of his face with her finger. His eyes continued to stare up at her, as if they could see right through her.

These where the yearly photographs her father had complained about that morning at breakfast. How for reason the photographer had sent doubles this year by mistake and was demanding to be paid. Sybil set the book down and reached to picked up the stack of pictures. Flipping through them she saw the familiar faces of staff and family members staring up at her twice over, although oddly there was only one picture of Cousin Matthew. As she circled back around to the chauffeur's face, her breathing quickened.

She's not sure what possessed her to do it, but suddenly she found herself taking the top photograph and tucking it into the pages of her book. She then slipped it's double onto the bottom of the pile. Carson now stared up at her disapprovingly from the desk. Sybil looked quickly around to see if anyone was there, then she hurried out of the library. Instead of finding a quiet place to read, she snuck up to her bedroom. There she carefully hid her new treasure between the pages of the bible, which sat in the bottom drawer of her dressing table.

It would be several days, when she's packing for the nurses training in York, before she retrieved it. Again something came over her and she had slipped the photograph into one of the suitcases right before it was brought down and loaded onto the car. She's not sure why she did it, but the thought of leaving him behind didn't sit well with her.

After his emotion filled proposal and the awkwardness that followed, Sybil found herself in her dorm-room suddenly feeling very empty. As she began to unpack and settle into her new life she found his picture among her belongings. Taking it into her hands she sat on the bed and just stared at his face.

"Is that your beau?... he's awfully handsome" her roommate Martha asked smiling at her.

"What?" Sybil looked up confused. Then she realized the girl was referring to the photograph she held in her hand and had been staring at unblinkingly for five minutes.

No one knew her as Lady Sybil there, or who the man in the picture was, so she smiled and said "yes". Testing out to see how it sounded, how it felt to admit to something so dangerous. "Tom, he's an aspiring journalist".

Still smiling she placed the picture back into the empty suitcase and slide it neatly under the bed. She wouldn't bring him out again, but knowing he's there somehow made the hard days ahead more bearable.

Over the next several years, the increasingly battered photograph would be taken out and stared at with more and more frequency, before eventually finding its way to a place of honor within the room.

The newsroom was a hive of activity as Tom surveyed his new work space. It had all of the necessities for a budding journalist, save one thing. Setting his bag onto the desk he withdrew a framed photograph of a smartly dressed nurse. Looking at it reverently he placed this prized item gently down. Now everything was perfect. He sat and stared at the picture remembering the day it came into his possession several years earlier.

The hospital had been busy, overrun with the wounded and dying men returning from France. One sunny afternoon he had been conscripted by Mrs. Crawley to pickup supplies from the station. As he walked into the hospital ward his eyes automatically went towards the object of his affection. This was problematic seeing as he was attempting to carry a heavy box and walk in a straight line between the beds. After he stumbled several times, his boots hitting the metal frames, Mrs. Crawley's attention was piqued.

"Branson, is everything quite alright?"

"I apologize Mrs. Crawley, I wasn't watching where I was going... I'll be more careful."

Isobel smiled at him as he continued about his work. She looked over toward what had caused his distraction. There at the other end of the room she saw one of the nurses checking charts and talking softly to the patients. She wasn't surprised in the least to see which nurse in-particular Tom had been so focused on.

She had noticed lately how his eyes seemed to follow her in any room they were both occupying. Isobel wasn't surprised by his attraction to the young woman and she knew it wasn't merely physical. The two share many interests and had similar temperaments. Just last week during a lull in the chaos that usually made up the ward, she had noticed for the first time a shift in their relationship. It was nothing untoward to be sure, but in their interactions there was a noticeable ease and in their manner a lack of the usual formalities.

The war was changing the world and Isobel hoped that it would change enough for these two to possibly find happiness. She was well aware of his affection, but was left wondering how the young nurse felt about the chauffeur. Later that afternoon, as the two organized the supplies she gently inquired. She knew well enough not to ask directly how the young woman felt, but rather about Tom in general.

After several minutes of conversation, the young nurse made it obvious she knew more than she should about the young man's aspirations for the future once the war was over.

"He won't always be a chauffeur, he's had a few articles published in monthly circulars... just please don't mention it to anyone, I don't think Papa, let alone Carson would approve."

As Isobel listened, it wasn't so much the words she heard, but the pride the young woman felt towards Tom and his achievements. Although she tried to mask it behind a veneer of indifference, she wasn't so careful in Isobel's presence as she would've been with anyone else. The nurse admitted to having read the articles in question and that she thought they were very good. This convinced Isobel enough, that although the young woman was being cautious and hiding her heart, she definitely felt an undeniable affection for the chauffeur.

Later that evening, Tom drove Isobel home from the hospital on his way back to the Abbey. Stopped in front of Crawley House, he opened the door and helped her step down. As Mrs. Crawley exited the motor and made her way to the door, a piece of paper floated off the pile she was carrying. It landed onto the gravel behind her.

"Mrs. Crawley, excuse me you've dropped this." Tom said, he picked up what she had dropped barely looking at it as he handed it back to her.

"No, I don't think so, Branson." she said smiling as she turned and made her way into the house.

Tom watched her go, then looked down at what was in his hand. It wasn't a piece of paper at all, but a photograph. Her eyes stared back him and he couldn't help but smile. He looked around quickly, to make sure his other passenger (a certain nurse) hadn't been paying attention, then he slipped it into his breast pocket for safe keeping.

For the next couple of years it resided in the tattered bible his mother had insisted he bring with him to England. During sleepless nights, he often took it out to look at the woman who felt so near within his heart, yet was just out of reach. Stuck behind the brick-wall society had forcibly built between them.

It may not be the most flattering photograph of her ever taken, but every time Tom looks at it he gets a rush of pride seeing her dressed in the nurses uniform. He's still staring at the photograph when the young reporter, Colin, sits down at the desk opposite him.

"Who's that?... your sweetheart?" he asks.

"Nurse Crawley, my fiancée" Tom says glowing with pride.


End file.
